


Batman: Never Again

by LilyBalfast



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Other, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyBalfast/pseuds/LilyBalfast
Summary: Batman saves a kid from committing suicide, learns his name is Jason Todd, and decides to take him in under his wing. He struggles to teach him to get past his violent tendencies, and tries to raise him to the best of his limited parental abilities.





	Batman: Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another work in progress for you all, so far I've only got the first chapter. I also have no idea which story I'll be focusing the most on right now, but hey, who doesn't like a good surprise.

**Chapter One: Todd**

 

   Far up in the sky, right in the middle of the dark storm clouds that usually surrounded the city, there was a single circle of light. At a quick glance, most would assume that it was the sun, but if you looked at it longer you'd realise both that the light neither originated from the sky, nor did it hurt your eyes, and that right in the centre of the circle was the unmistakable outline of a bat. If you traced the source of the light down towards the city, you'd find yourself at the rooftop of their police HQ, AND you'd probably be told to leave by grey haired man standing by the shining spotlight. The man was known to the police force as Commissioner Gordon, but there was one man in the entire city who he allowed to call him Jim. He had a stance that irradiated authority, and was dressed in a businesslike shirt that he'd forgotten to iron, with a light brown trench coat on top of that. He was looking up at the sky, deep in thought, with one hand holding his favourite cup which had been emptied of the coffee he'd brought half an hour ago, and the other hand resting in his coat pocket. Most of the GCPD knew that there were two places you could find Gordon at if he wasn't barking orders at them, either going over some paperwork in his office, or standing right here, always looking up at the sky.

   A few minutes later, one of the only detectives who could actually get past his rough exterior came out onto the roof, handing him a fresh brew of bitter, liquid energy poured into his second favourite mug. 

   “Thanks…” he said quietly, trading the empty cup for the new one and took a sip. He noticed that she'd brewed it just the way he liked it, but chose not to comment on it.

   “You think he'll show up?” she asked, following his gaze with her own eyes.

   “Maybe, maybe not. You can never know for sure with this thing.”

   “Aren't there any more effective ways of contacting him?” she asked, looking down at him again, noticing a small brown stain from the coffee on his otherwise white moustache.

   “A dozen. Probably more. Hell, I've got a direct line to his base in my office.”

   “Then… Why don't you use one of those if you need to get a hold of him?” she asked in confusion.

   “Because I'm not trying to. This signal isn't exclusively for calling him.”

   “What else could it possibly be for? It's literally shining his symbol into the sky.”

   “Exactly. Seeing that symbol fills the people down there with one of two feelings. The lowlifes of the street are filled with the immense feeling of dread at the thought of him being active. And the good people, they're filled with hope.”

   “And which one are you intending to spread more?” she asked, and the man chuckled a bit.

   “Oh, usually hope. Though sometimes,  if I'm having a bad day, it feels pretty nice knowing  I can send the rats of this city crawling back into their holes with their tails between their legs, all with the flick of a switch.”

   “Yeah… I could use a switch like that sometimes…” she said, and then went quiet. The two of them stood there for a while longer, just looking at the beacon of either hope or fear in silence, returning to the department only after the coffee ran out.

 

   About halfway across the city from the GCPD, another man was staring into the void, him too deep in thought. But as James Gordon was staring up at the sky, this man was looking down at the city. He was kneeling on top of one of the city's many gargoyle sculptures, protruding from their respective buildings. This particular one was his favourite for contemplating whatever he needed,  as it belonged to the second tallest building that Gotham had to offer, bested only by the eyesore that was Wayne Tower. When he stood up here and looked down at the streets he'd called home so long ago, they seemed so tiny and far away, and he could barely hearth noise of it all. The perspective he got from that rooftop almost made the it seem somewhat peaceful.

   He looked up at the bat signal in the sky and had to hinder a small smile from spreading on his lips, Jim was having another hour of contemplation. He was never up there for longer than an hour, and never any shorter than half of one, punctual as ever. It was pretty easy to know when the signal was lit to call him, or for an excuse for Jim to have an excuse to get away from the hectic police department for a while, now that his wife had gotten him to give up his cigars. If there was a crime, then he would already know about it, and Jim would only be delivering additional details that he himself wouldn't be able to get his hands on, or the commissioner would simply use the red phone he'd provided him with. If there was an actual emergency, Jim wouldn't waste the time of walking all the way up to the roof, and then wait for however long it took for him to notice the spotlight. That very impracticality was why he was constantly finding more and more ways for Gordon to contact him as quickly as possible, without leaving any trace to his whereabouts. No matter how much he trusted the man, he knew how easily the power of curiosity could get the better of the best of people.

   His train of thought was promptly interrupted by the police scanner going off in his earpiece;

   “We've got a possible 10-56A reported at Wayne Tower-” was all he needed to hear before cutting it off and leaping off the gargoyle, gliding down slowly towards the street below, calling Alfred with a simple press of his finger against a hidden button at the palm of his hand.

   “Alfred, I need the-”

   “I heard, it's on its way to your estimated point of landing as we speak.”

   Sure enough, just as he was nearing the ground, the tank like, black car came up with a roar behind him, its roof sliding open for him to get easy access to the driver's seat and take over the wheel. He probably broke most of the traffic rules set in place in order to get to the tower as quickly as possible, but if someone had the guts to put a ticket on this car, he'd gladly pay it in full. Mere minutes later, he turned a corner and pressed the eject button right below Wayne Tower, launching himself into the air, and quickly grabbed his grappling hook from his belt, successfully landing a hit right at the top of the towering roof, and was pulled up towards it with the sound of his cape flapping in the air rushing by him filling his ears. Seconds later he climbed onto the roof, startling the person standing on the edge of it.

   “Hey! No! Don't come any closer! I haven't done anything wrong!”

   “I know. I'm not here for that reason, kid. I know what you're trying to do, and I'm here to help,” he said, trying to maintain a tone as calm as he could.

   “But… isn't that what you do? You stop criminals by beating them senseless, you put them in jail, you serve justice. Why… Why would you waste time on me?”

   “That's not exactly it. Justice isn't just about punishing people, or putting them away. Justice should go hand in hand with forgiveness, and it's about doing what's right. That includes helping people in need, not just putting away the people who made them desperate in the first place.”

   “But… But… Why me? Out of all the people who need help in this hellhole,  why did you choose to help me?” the pure desperation and the believed truth of his words almost broke Bruce’s heart.

   “Because… I've been where you are. Not on a building specifically. That was… the last time I ever considered using a gun. Don't get me wrong, it didn't stop just because I put the gun down. I had to keep fighting. I'm  _ still  _ fighting it to this day. I don't want you, or anyone else, to go through that, not without the help I avoided.”

   “But… You're  _ Batman _ . You've saved the world dozens of times. You hang out with the  _ Justice League _ .”

   He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking of how to put his answer in the best way.

   “What's your name, kid?”

   “Jason. Jason Todd. What's yours?” he replied, and the sarcastic follow up question made him smirk a bit.

   “Jason Todd.” he repeated, memorising the name, “Well, Jason, the big problem with this ‘job’ is that no matter how big of an icon you make yourself into, you're still only human underneath. Granted, some less than others, but we've all got weaknesses, physical or mental, no matter who you are. Even Superman needs help sometimes.”

   “Wait…  _ Superman _ ? Isn't he indestructible?”

   “Not entirely. He's got several weaknesses. But that's not what I meant. He was raised a human. Despite what you might think based on his fashion sense, he's actually a very humble guy, at least in private. He has good days and bad days, just like anyone else. I'm pretty sure even he's felt  _ like this _ sometimes, only he can't just grab a gun or jump off a building.”

   “What weaknesses could he possibly have?”

   “Well, there's kryptonite, magic, red sunlight, or simply someone as strong as, or stronger than him, to name a few.”

   “Wow…”

   “What?”

   “I didn't really expect you to tell me.”

   “I'm not exactly expecting a kid your age to go off and fight a nigh unbeatable alien. Even if you did, where would you get your hands on a piece of kryptonite, or any of the others for that matter?”

   “That's fair, I guess…” he admitted, and paused in deep thought. “So… What happened to you to bring you to… You know.”

   “What did it for you?”

   “I'm asked first. I won't tell anyone, and even if I did, no one would believe me.”

   “That's fair,” he repeated, “how about this; if you step down onto the roof, I'll tell you anything you want to know. Well, except for my name.”

   Jason remained quiet, and Bruce let him think about it for as long as he needed. After a couple of minutes, the young man nodded briefly and carefully turned around, stepping down towards the relative safety of the rooftop, followed by the masked man.

   “You don't happen to have any foldable chairs in that belt of yours?” he asked sarcastically, earning him another smirk. He reached up towards his cowl and janked lightly at his cape where it connected to the suit, and it disconnected from it with a little ‘click’. Jason gave him a questioning look.

   “I learnt the hard way, years ago, that a cape can be very impractical in close combat, especially if the other party is clever enough to grab it.” he explained while laying the cape out onto the roof for them to sit. Jason, after picturing the situation, started to laugh, and Batman let himself smile. Before sitting down, he sent off a quick message to Jim, letting him know he had the situation under control. They sat next to each other in silence for a brief moment, as just two people taking in the night sky, only one of them was dressed in a body armor resembling a bat.

   “So what happened to you?” Jason finally asked and heard the man sigh next to him.

   “First of all, I don't  _ really  _ ‘hang out’ with the Justice League, we only meet when there's an emergency.”

   “That's not what I asked.”

   “Fine,” he said, giving in at last, “I was young. Younger than you. I watched as my parents were killed in front of me. I never really found a good way to deal with it, as you can see.” he gestured to his outfit. “At first the crime fighting did seem to help. The adrenaline, the feeling of serving some sort of self employed justice, even witnessing the fear that criminals felt at the mere sight of my shadow, they all made me feel alive again. But the more I did it, the less it started to help, so I stayed up longer, I fought harder, and I ended up exhausting myself. But I didn't care. If I was too exhausted to even stand, it meant I was too exhausted to feel.”

   “What happened? Was that some sort of wake up call?”

   “Not even close. The wake up call came much later. What happened was the evolution of criminals. Just when the crime rate was starting to drop, a new class of criminals started to emerge. People like the Joker, Two-faced,  or the Riddler, to mention a few. They tore the scum of the city out of their holes, organised them, and hit Gotham with a wave of crime bigger than it had seen for decades. It was like a tsunami, and it was too much. That's when I hit my lowest point. I felt so helpless, it felt like there was nothing I could do as one man to take them down. Being a one man army didn't help anymore.”

   “So what did you do?”

   “If increased my manpower. Previously, I'd avoided the police as much as I could, because they were mostly corrupt, but that was my mistake. I focused on the mostly. ‘Mostly corrupt’ is still ‘slightly honest’. So I found the most honest cop they had, and I got in touch. After a lot of back and forth, we came to an understanding.”

   “Wait, you work with the GCPD?” Jason asked in surprise, and got another small smirk.

   “Who do you think controls the Bat Signal? Anyway, with their help, we managed to keep the chaos under relative control.”

   “Then what was the wake up call?”

   “Bane.” he said, his voice full of spite, “He came out of nowhere, one day he was just there. He staged petty crimes for me to apprehend, so he could study me. He broke all of Gotham’s most dangerous criminals out of Arkham and Blackgate, and then he just… waited. For months he watched as I took them down, one by one. I worked non-stop, harder than I'd ever worked before, only sleeping an hour or two each night. It didn't make it any better that it was nearing winter, and my immune system being weaker than normal. When I was finally done, I came home, and just as I finally let my guard down to rest, he attacked me.”

   “Did you beat him?” asked Jason, slight worry in his voice.

   “Not that time. I was far too exhausted, which was his plan. He'd studied me enough to know he couldn't beat me in a fair fight, so he fought dirty.”

   “What happened? Why didn't he kill you?”

   “Because he wanted to do worse than that. He wanted to humiliate me, tear down everything I was. He wanted to  _ break  _ me. And that's what he did. He broke my back over his knee like a twig. Then he presented Gotham’s broken icon for all to see.”

   “You seem fine now though, how could you possibly have recovered from that?”

   “I may not ‘hang out’ with the Justice League, but they still keep an eye on me. They saw that I needed help, and they've got some amazing technology when it comes to health, especially since a lot of the members aren't as robust as Superman. After they slowly but surely helped me mend my spine, I came back, and I took Bane down. I sent him back to the hellhole he crawled out of. After that I had the best night of sleep in my entire life so far.”

   “Wow…” Jason almost whispered. “I'd always pictured you as this perfect, godlike being, spreading fear throughout the scum of the underworld.”

   “Sorry to disappoint you.” he said sarcastically.

   “No, this is honestly even better. A human standing up to impossible odds and winning is way better than an unbeatable god.”

   “Thanks, kid. Just make sure you don't say that to Superman.”

   Jason laughed a little again, and Batman let him do so until he was sure he was done, not wanting to spoil the moment with his next question. 

   “So what's your story? I told you mine, now I'm interested in hearing yours.”

   “I was honestly hoping you'd forgot,” Jason said with a sigh. He stayed quiet for a while longer, hoping Batman might pick up a different subject, but with no luck. “I guess it started when my dad disappeared. He didn't leave, even though that's what everyone's told me. They don't know about his debt.” he said, his voice getting more shaky with every word, “They don't know about the mob’s idea of ‘compensation’. His index finger arriving in the mail was the final kicker for mom. She'd already been depressed after that, but the finger pushed her over the line. She started ‘going out’ a lot more, leaving me at home on my own. Then she'd come home, late at night, pissed drunk, and crash on the first best flat surface she saw, usually the hallway floor. Then she started coming home high, on heroin, or morphine,  maybe opium. Whatever substance that calmed her down, she took to her heart's content. Then one day she just… didn't get out of bed. She OD’d, and choked on her own vomit. Her dealer came back a few days later, telling me that I needed to pay him for her latest supply in some way before the end of the week. That was two days ago, and if you didn't notice, it's Friday now. I guess it's been building up for so long, and this was the final straw.”

   “I could help you, if you want.”

   “Why, do you have any money on you?”

   “Not exactly, but-”

   “I just- I don't know what else to do, and- I don't-” Jason tried, trembling more and more. Seeing the fear and panic build up in his eyes, Batman quickly grabbed the kid's arm, and put it against his armored chest.

   “Jason. Listen. Feel my breathing,” he said, taking slow and steady breaths, “try to match it with your own. Take your time. You're strong, okay? Stronger than you think. I believe in you.”

   He struggled at first, but after a few minutes that felt like eternity, his breathing was starting to slow.

   “Good. Very good. See? You're strong, Jason.”

   Before he could continue, Jason felt everything he'd bottled up the latest couple of months rise to the surface, and broke down into heavy sobs. Batman acted fast, and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

   “It's okay, I'm here. Just let it out. It's okay to cry, Jason. It's okay. Even the best people cry, you can trust me on that.”

   They sat like that for a long while, Jason sobbing into the armored shoulder, and Batman holding him for however long he needed. Even after the tears had stopped coming, they didn't break the hug he so desperately needed, not until Jason himself slowly pulled away. Neither of them spoke for a while, letting everything settle. The atmosphere between them had changed drastically from the last time they sat in silence, but none of them preferred one over the other. Jason was the one to finally break the ice.

   “What… kind of help could you offer?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

   “I could get in touch with someone to help you with the debt. I could find someone to take you in, so you won't have to live on the streets, or that apartment. I could get someone who could protect you from further interactions with the mob.”

   “You really know that many people in those positions?”

   “Actually, I only had one guy in mind. Do you have a phone?” he asked, and Jason gave him a look.

   “This is the 21st century. Everyone has a phone. Hell, the Flash has a twitter account for god's sake.”

   “Right. Dumb question. If you give me your number, I can have him call you first thing tomorrow morning.”

   “Thanks for the offer,” he said glumly, “but then I'd just change my debt from one person to the other.”

   “Oh, you must have misunderstood me. He's not going to loan you the money. You won't have to pay him back.”

   “And you trust this person?”

   “Yeah, he's done this kind of thing before.”

   Jason thought about it for a little over five minutes before looking up at the masked eyes watching him.

   “Do you, uh… have a pen and paper?”

   Batman gave him another tiny smirk and reached to the back of his belt, grabbing those very items from one of the containers, and handed them to the kid. A few seconds later he got them back with a freshly written phone number, and he put them back in his belt.

   “Don't get any ideas,” Jason said with what could almost pass for a smile.

   “Funny. You think you'll be okay until tomorrow? I could point you to a shelter nearby if you want, they've got pretty good supplies there.”

   “Courtesy of the Wayne Foundation, yeah. I know it. But yeah, I think I'll be alright. What about you?”

   “What about me?” he asked, a bit confused.

   “Will you overwork yourself again? Because that'd be a bit hypocritical.”

   “Do you have any friends, Jason?” he asked, avoiding the question.

   “One or two, why?”

   “Here,” he handed him one of his batarangs, “this way they'll believe you when you say you've met me.”

   Jason merely admired the metal mat in his hands, lost for words, while Batman grabbed his cape after they'd stood up.

   “Will you be okay on your own or do you want some company?”

   “I think I'll be fine,” Jason answered, “I'll take the elevator down this time. The other way may be quicker, but you know.”

   Batman gave him one last smirk while re-attaching his cape, and then started walking towards the ledge of the roof.

   “Oh, uh, Batman?” Jason called out, and the man turned around, his face lit up in the light blue glow of the Wayne Tower sign, “Uh… Thanks you. For everything.”

   “No problem, kid.” he replied, leaping off the roof and spread his cape out, gliding away looking like the giant bat he intended to be.

   Once he was sure he was out of view, he grappled onto the nearest rooftop and switched on the binocular mode on his eyepieces, finding Jason on the street and made sure that he got to the shelter with no incidents. He called up Alfred again, asking him to prepare the finest guest room, and cut him off before he could ask any questions. He sat there all night, keeping watch of the shelter, and making sure the boy was safe. He only left about five in the morning, in order to get back to Wayne Manor in time to prepare himself for the soon to arrive company, and to prepare his second mask.


End file.
